Nine and Six
by Kryschenn
Summary: A Crossover! Slightly lost on the way to a new adventure, the Young Ones run across another famous group of travelers.


**Nine and Six**

**By Kryschenn**

* * *

"We're lost!"

"We are _not_ lost! Now will you _please_ be quiet?"

"Admit it, Oh Fearless Leader, you don't know where we are!"

"Eric, at what point have you, or I, or any of us _ever_ known exactly where we are ever since we got pulled away from Earth and showed up here in this _completely different world_?"

At long last, Hank's pointed comment finally, miraculously, for the first time since they'd set out once again this morning, got Eric to shut up. But the Ranger had to admit - just to himself, of course - that the Cavalier was right. Dungeon Master's vague instructions were confusing at their best. Who knew where they might end up if they misinterpreted his words, as was so often the case.

It looked like this was going to be another one of those cases. They'd been crossing a rocky, hilly expanse of terrain for three days now, looking for "the home that stands beneath their feet and above the water, where in a short time," (a span of time which, to their annoyance, was not specifically defined,) "a divided but united council would come to contemplate the golden circle of mankind's fate," as Dungeon Master had put it. Three days seemed to be an awfully long time to be searching, especially since Dungeon Master had implied a sense of urgency... this meeting would be happening soon. They should have found it by now, shouldn't they?

"Well, what do you guys think?" Hank asked, surveying the landscape from their vantage point atop a hill.

"I think we're lost!" Eric piped up.

The others promptly ignored him. "I say we keep going," Diana volunteered. "We've got enough supplies for a week. So, we can keep going the way we are for two more days, and if we don't find it by then, we can still turn around and make it back to Shalderon and be okay."

"Sounds good to me," Presto agreed. "And you know, it's kind of nice being this far away from civilization for once. Venger hasn't bothered us since we got out here. I think he, I dunno, lost track of us or something."

"Either that or he's afraid to come here," Eric added. "Haven't you noticed how weird it is out here? Like something's watching us? I mean, like, the birds and everything are following every move we make. I wonder if this is someone else's turf or something, and Venger's so scared that he won't even try to muscle in." Eric shuddered, looking around nervously as the wheels of his mind turned at an alarming rate. "Come on, guys, I think we're stupid for coming here!"

Hank wasn't really listening, for his attention had been caught by something else. As he'd looked across the vast expanse of hills ahead of them, he'd seen something moving. No... several somethings... a group of people. And they were coming this way. "Look, guys!" he said, pointing. "There's someone else out here, and they're coming from the way we're heading. Maybe they can give us directions!"

Sheila and Diana looked at each other in mock surprise, giggling between themselves. "Write this down!" Diana gasped, bringing her hand to her forehead as if she was going to faint. "It's a monumental occasion! We're actually going to be seeing a man asking for directions!"

Giggles from the girls and muttered predictions of death and doom from Eric aside, the gang hurried their way down the hill they were standing on, and marched their way up the next. Less than half an hour later, they were within shouting distance of the other group.

"Hello, there!" Hank called to them, slinging his Bow on his back and telling the others to show their peaceful intent by keeping their Weapons down. When the other group paused, he shouted, "We mean no harm! We're looking for directions!"

A quick conversation happened between a few of the figures in the other party, and after a moment they seemed to decide these strangers approaching them were safe enough to deal with. "Very well," called the oldest man in this group. "Let us see if we can be of any assistance to you, fellow travelers!"

In a minute or two, the groups had approached one another. From this group of strangers, a scruffy-looking man with a quiver and bow on his back and a sword on his belt stepped forward and appraised the young travelers with a critical eye. "Well," he said with a certain amount of surprise, "Where is such a group as yourselves heading in times such as these?"

"Well, we're trying to find this place that's... er... above water but beneath our feet," Hank began, launching into a description of the meeting that Dungeon Master had told them to attend.

For a moment, as Hank spoke to the other man, silence reigned as the two groups sized each other up. Finally, it was Presto who broke the silence, figuring it couldn't hurt to be polite. "Hey, um, thanks for being nice enough to stop for us," the young Magician said, talking to the old man who had replied to their hail from afar. As he spoke, he took in the man's robes, long grey beard, gnarled staff and pointed hat with a certain amount of giddy interest. "We don't run across friendly people just every day...but, um, this is so cool, are you, like, a Wizard?"

Somehow, the old man gave Presto a stern glare while laughing at the same time. "My boy, I am not 'like' a Wizard, I AM a Wizard!" Glancing Presto over, he surmised, "And you're studying to be one yourself, am I right?"

"Well, yeah, sort of," Presto admitted glumly, feeling giddy to be in the presence of a real Wizard, but at the same time feeling like the dullest student in class forgetting to do his homework again. After all, this guy was a _real_ Wizard. "But see, I can never get my Hat to work right..." As Presto took it off his head and held it out, the old man leaned over to inspect the magic item, and in seconds, these two were engrossed, like old friends, in a conversation about all things magic.

As Presto spoke with his newfound mentor, Bobby and Uni broke away from Sheila's side, their attention drawn by an unexpected sight. He did not think about how strange it was that Sheila didn't notice he was wandering off and reproach him for it, he was too interested in several members of the other party. "Hey, neat!" Bobby said, approaching a group of curly-haired children about his size clustered around a pack pony. "This is the first time I've seen anyone else my age traveling around like this! Cool! What kind of weapons do they let you carry?"

Four of the five children, the ones on the side of the pony that Bobby could see, looked at each other quizzically. "I think you're mistaken," one of them said with a slight frown. "To answer your question, we all have swords... but I'm not sure what you mean about 'being your age.' I'm 50 years old. For a human, hmm, I don't normally associate with the tall folk, but let me guess, you're only about, what, nine? Ten?"

"Uh, yeah," Bobby replied, suddenly very uncertain. His confusion was made even more deep when he suddenly noticed that one of the people he thought were children had started puffing on a pipe when their groups had paused to meet one another. "You mean you're not kids?"

"Kids?!" the fifth one roared. Until now, he had been on the other side of the pony, and Bobby had seen nothing but his feet. This one was a bit taller and heavier-set than the others, and Bobby stumbled backwards in surprise as he came stomping around the pony. The animal watched the commotion with a placid swish of his tail. "KIDS? D'you think a _kid_ could have grown this?!"

"Uh, no! No way!" Bobby exclaimed, dumbfounded by the fact that this 'kid' had a thick, red beard so long and full that he could have tucked it into his belt. "I, uh, sorry! I didn't know you were a... uh... Dwarf," he finished lamely, not knowing if that came out sounding like an insult or not. Bobby had seen Dwarves before, and he knew how touchy they could be. Insulting one would not be the smartest thing the young Barbarian could ever do.

"It's not a mistake you should go 'round making often!" the Dwarf warned darkly, proudly stroking his braided beard and digging the end of his axe shaft into the ground.

"No, I won't!" Bobby promised, scooting backwards with Uni on his heels until he was closer to his sister. "Um, Sheila, can we go?" he whispered loudly. "Something's kinda weird here."

There was no answer, and Bobby looked up in surprise. Finally it registered that Sheila hadn't said anything to him earlier about wandering off to talk to strangers, and it surprised him to see his sister abandoning her over-protectiveness. But it was true, this was one of the few times in her life in which the Thief was paying absolutely no attention whatsoever to her little brother. Instead, Sheila - and Diana as well - were both staring, in that starry-eyed, wide-mouthed, giggly, girl-with-a-massive-crush kind of way, at one of the other travelers. Following their gaze, Bobby rolled his eyes. "Aw, no, not the mushy stuff again!" he sighed.

Fortunately, the traveler they were staring at, the one clad in forest green leggings and tunic, with a quiver of arrows on his back, was intent on scanning the landscape around them as they paused, and didn't notice, or at least didn't _seem_ to notice, that the girls were drooling over him.

"Oh, my..." Sheila whispered to Diana when she'd finally caught her breath. "Do you see what I see?" She couldn't find the right words to describe what she was seeing. He couldn't be real. He was too perfect. From his golden blonde hair that reached to the middle of his back, to the fine-boned features that could almost be described as delicate, the lithe form of this fair being seemed to emit a soft glow of perfection in the eyes of the girls. "He's... he's..."

"He's _beautiful_! Diana sighed, supplying just the right word.

"Ugh," Bobby groaned.

But the traveler seemed to have heard Diana's last comment, (though the truth was that he could hear their every whisper all along, and found a bit of humor in the situation even though he seemed to put up with this a lot in his travels,) and as the Acrobat finished speaking, just for amusement's sake, he decided to turn his head and flash them a vibrant smile that very nearly melted the girls into twin puddles of giddy lust.

"He's an Elf!" Diana realized then, for as he'd turned, she'd finally noticed the pointed ears that clearly marked him as other than human.

"An Elf?" Sheila repeated, now understanding. "Ooooooh, where can I get one?"

"Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis!" Bobby whined, and that's when the Dwarf with the braided beard came up behind him and slapped him on the back, a sign of comradeship that was unfortunately a bit too hard for the young Barbarian. He pitched forward a few steps, the wind knocked out of him, and he looked at the Dwarf in surprise.

"Your sister, eh?" the Dwarf asked. "Well, then, m'lad, you keep an eye on her. She may not realize it, but I can see it." He scowled, which was a terrifying thing, for even when a Dwarf was smiling, he was a scary sight to behold. "Them Elves are tricky. Tell her to stay away from 'em. The last thing you'd want is for an Elf to go all poetic on you and start singing. Turn your stomach, it will."

"Uh, sure..." Bobby agreed slowly, not understanding what the Dwarf meant at all. But that didn't matter, because at the moment, he'd gladly say anything to get the Dwarf out of his face. In fact, his answer seemed to satisfy the Dwarf, who nodded once and then stumped off towards the pony again, muttering something about Elves not even being able to grow proper beards.

Bobby looked back at the Elf just in time to see him shooting a dark look at the Dwarf. Though the Elf said nothing, Bobby got the distinct impression of some animosity between them, and had the strange feeling that if the Dwarf wasn't careful, one of these mornings he was going to wake up to find his own beard cut off and strewn about his feet. It actually gave Bobby something to snicker about as he waited for the others to finish what they were doing.

"This bothers you, does it not?"

Eric flinched as the last man in the other group suddenly approached. This man had stood by looking fidgety and impatient as Hank spoke with the other swordsman, but Eric was so busy fuming to himself about being stuck in the middle of nowhere, _again_, that he hadn't noticed when this large man with the shield on his back had broken away from the others to speak to him.

"I, uh, what bothers me?" Eric asked, trying to be nonchalant. Sure, he let his feelings be loudly and continuously known to his friends, but it was vaguely disconcerting to be so readable to a perfect stranger.

"Either it bothers you to be standing around talking when you are at heart a man of action," the stranger suggested, glancing at the Shield Eric carried, "or perhaps you are troubled just by being here at all."

The Cavalier shrugged, but this man had hit the nail on the head. "Little of both," he admitted. "Personally I think we're stupid for being out here in the first place, wandering around like a bunch of idiots, _lost_ idiots, I might add, and now all we do is stop and stand here yakking when we could be heading back to somewhere safe, like intelligent people! Uh, no offense to you, or anything."

"Nay, 'tis well, for I agree, my friend." The man sighed. "I too feel that what we do is folly. We seek to destroy what little hope we have, when my heart cries to return home with it! Yet we are led further into this madness. I feel the Dark Lord has driven us from our senses."

"Yeah, I think Venger's trying to drive us nuts, too!" Eric agreed, not noticing the man's confused look at the name 'Venger.' "But you're right, all I want to do is go home, but every time we get the chance, we have to destroy it! I think we've destroyed it about twenty times now!"

For a moment, the man studied Eric as if he'd taken leave of his senses, but as the Cavalier continued to vent what was bugging him, the man nodded in sympathetic agreement when Eric vehemently spoke of being repeatedly sent on what seemed like senseless and even counterproductive adventures.

Eric rattled on for a few moments, when suddenly the man interrupted him with a question that was completely off the subject. "Why have you no weapon?" he asked bluntly.

"And then we went and gave the... huh?" Eric asked, wondering what he'd missed. Blankly, he looked at the Shield on his arm. "What do you mean? I have this. You have a shield too, what's wrong with that?"

"Yes, but I carry a sword, as well," the man explained, drawing it, and Eric suddenly cringed behind his own Shield with that shiver of fear running down his back. "You mean to say that you charge into battle with nothing but that? I thought I had seen enough folly in our journey already to last a lifetime! But this?" The man shook his head, rapping his knuckle lightly on Eric's Shield, but the slight knock he gave it was too light to feel the magic within. "Perhaps it will protect you from an orc's arrows, but if I were to attack you now, with my sword, how would you stop me? Would you just hold your Shield up and let me swing against it until I tire?"

"I, uh, I, uh," Eric stammered, half afraid the man was going to start chopping right then and there. "Well," he finally managed, "I've been in lots of battles already, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm still alive. Believe me, this protects me from orc arrows and swords just fine, thank you very much!"

Surprised and somewhat amused, the man stopped, humor flashing in his eyes. "That is only because orcs are notoriously bad shots," he laughed.

Realizing he wasn't about to get his head cut off, Eric lowered the Shield slightly, peeking one eye open to make sure it was safe. Seeing that the man was laughing, Eric laughed too. "Well, yeah, they're such bad shots that I don't even think I need this baby, to tell you the truth!" he said with a show of bravado as he dusted off his Shield.

"Okay, bad news, guys," Hank's voice interrupted all the conversations that were going on at the same time. "It looks like the council already happened a couple days ago. These guys were all there. I guess we missed it."

There were muttered groans from the young companions, and an "I knew we were lost!" from Eric. So they'd come all this way for nothing. And Dungeon Master had acted like it was so important, too...

"So we might as well turn around and head back for Shalderon," Hank continued, ignoring the pleading look from Presto, who obviously wanted to stay right next to the old Wizard he'd just met and soak up every tidbit of magical advice he had to offer. He also studiously ignored the pained looks that the girls were giving him for being so cruel as to drag them away before they'd finished ogling their beautiful Elf.

"Anyway, it's probably not a good idea to join up with these guys, since they were hand-picked by the council that we missed," Hank continued to explain. "At this point, we'd probably be interfering. So I guess the best I can say," he added, turning back to the swordsman he had been speaking to, "is good luck, and thanks for stopping to help us out."

The swordsman nodded in acknowledgment. "Of course, my friend. What kind of Ranger would I be if I did not stop to assist one of my fellows?"

"Well, we still appreciate it," Hank said, shaking the man's hand as their two groups got themselves ready to head their respective directions.

"Finally!" the man with the shield next to Eric breathed. "We are moving again!"

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Eric agreed, flashing a cocky grin back at him. "Well, see you around! Like he said, good luck and all." Glancing at the other man's shield, the Cavalier joked, "And stay away from orc arrows with that shield of yours!"

"Have no fear!" he laughed over his shoulder as he joined his own group again. "Orcs, as we both well know, have notoriously bad aim!"

Presto seemed reluctant to let the old Wizard go; it took about three attempts before the old man was able to brush the young Magician off his sleeve, and even that had to be coupled with a glare from under bristling eyebrows before it worked. Presto sighed, and muttered his thanks and goodbyes with his eyes downcast. He hated to see them go. This Wizard was WAY cooler than Merlin. Well, Merlin before anyone knew it was Venger, anyway...

On the other hand, Bobby wasn't at all sad to see the group of... non-children go. Frankly, he was unnerved by the whole thing. To see someone his own height and build standing there smoking a pipe, or discussing how the garden back home must be faring with no one tending it, just like grown-ups, well, that was just too weird.

But whatever secret relief he felt at seeing them go was offset more than a dozen times over by the girls' crushed reaction to seeing the beautiful Elf leaving.

"Are you sure, Hank?" Diana asked plaintively, her starry puppy-eyes giving her real intent away. "I mean, can't we travel with him - um, I mean, _them_, for just a _little_ while? Safety in numbers and all? _Please_?"

"Sorry," Hank shook his head, trying his hardest to be oblivious and just answer the question. "They're going south, Shalderon is to the southwest. One of our groups would be going a bit out of our way if we traveled together."

"Darn!" Sheila answered. Right then, the Dwarf snorted in disgust and stomped by, shaking his head and muttering something in his own language that did not, by any stretch of the imagination, sound complimentary to the fair faces of Elves. For his own part, the Elf seemed to ignore it. But just as the Dwarf trudged past him, however, the shorter being's iron-shod feet got suddenly tangled and he unceremoniously tripped, falling flat on his face with a surprised shout.

"And how shall an Elf ever compete with the gracefulness of Dwarves?" the Elf asked, very calmly unhooking the tip of his bow from the fallen Dwarf's toe. Turning to Sheila and Diana, the Elf gave a sweeping, elegant bow and said, "By your leave, my ladies," before turning to follow the man with the shield.

Diana and Sheila looked like they were about to swoon.

The man with the sword pretended that he didn't see any of this happen, and instead said to Hank, "I wish you the best of luck in your journeys as well, my friend."

"Thanks," Hank nodded. "And I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Though most simply call me Strider."

"Okay, Strider it is! See you around!" The groups waved to each other, and Strider's group was soon disappearing over the next hill.

"Well, what did he say about the council we missed?" Eric immediately asked as their own group got under way, heading back to Shalderon in hopes of finding Dungeon Master and telling him of their failure.

Hank shrugged, remembering what Strider had said about the meeting location. "It was at this place called Rivendell, which is built over a river at the bottom of a deep gorge. I guess it's pretty well hidden, and we would have approached it from its southern side, which he said would have been a long climb down to the bottom. That's what Dungeon Master meant by it being over water but beneath our feet. I'm not sure we ever would have found it."

"So did we miss anything important?" Eric continued. Yes, he was curious, but on the whole he seemed to be rather relieved with the idea that they had missed out and this time had not been sent on another crazy adventure.

"Something about a ring," Hank answered, frowning. "He said something about destroying 'one of the Great Rings.' But he was being kind of vague, I think on purpose."

"Rings?" Presto asked. "Dungeon Master didn't say anything about any rings. What kind of rings was he talking about?"

"Not sure, but I was wondering if that was the 'golden circle of mankind's fate' that Dungeon Master mentioned," Hank answered, trying to remember what the other Ranger had said. It was a poem that Strider must have thought would explain everything. "I asked, and Strider said, um, let me get this right... He said, "Three rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, nine for Mortal Men doomed to die, one for the Dark Lord on his dark throne." And something about one ring to rule them all. I asked him if that one for 'the Dark Lord' meant Venger's Ring of the Mind, and if so, how did Kareena's Ring of the Heart fit into that?"

"And..?" Presto prompted.

Hank shrugged, looking back over the landscape and guessing how far they could get before night fell. "And... he kinda looked at me like he thought I was out of my mind."

~ End ~

* * *

Disclaimer: Dungeons and Dragons is copyright 1983-1986 to TSR/Marvel and 2001 to Saban Entertainment, and quite possibly several others in between. I don't own these characters, I'm just borrowing them for a little good-natured fun, but since I'm not making any money off this story, I hope that's okay. Lord of the Rings doesn't belong to me either, that belongs to the JRR. Tolkien estate. Lucky them. Oh, how I wish I owned it. But I don't. However, I wouldn't complain if someone gave me a certain Elf for Christmas. The ring poem is quoted from several places in Lord of the Rings, and I take no credit whatsoever for it. Those are Tolkien's words and I wouldn't dare be cheeky enough to try to steal them.


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